Chapter 34 Tierney
The beautiful thing about small-town living was that everyone rallied around each other during difficult times. The entire community had my back and were looking out for me as another week passed in my recovery.
That didn’t mean they weren’t gossiping among themselves now that it was public knowledge my affair with Ramsay was over.
The not-so-beautiful thing about small-town living was that everyone was in everyone else’s business.
It was interesting to me from a human perspective that no one gave me pitying looks when I returned wounded from being stabbed on Main Street by an “assassin for hire.” No, they’d looked at me like I’d survived a war.
But getting dumped by a guy … that got me pitying looks.
And wasn’t that fucked up?
I was pissed.
I was pissed at Halston Cole and Shawn Prescott.
At Leth Sholas for not treating me like the walking wounded over my actual physical wound but over a guy breaking up with me.
At Ramsay for lying. For his mixed signals.
At myself for getting involved with him when I knew it was going to hurt in the end.
I hadn’t realized how bad it was going to feel. It was worse than the knife wound—that I could take a million times over this bullshit.
Mostly I was angry that I could feel this way about someone I didn’t know very well. He hadn’t really shown himself to me, so how could I … how could it feel like he’d broken my heart?
I’d have to be in love with him for that to be true.
How could you love someone who only showed half of himself to you?
In desperate need to feel anything but this low, simmering seething, I’d jumped on the chance at a girls’ night.
I could now walk without getting exhausted and my wound only hurt if I jerked my body a certain way.
Cammie invited Taran and me to the Lantern, promising Quinn and Ramsay wouldn’t be there because a folk band was playing and it wasn’t their thing.
It was the first time being out in the village that I didn’t feel like everyone treated me to pitying, sympathetic looks. Our neighbors raised their pints when we walked in, and a group of fishermen very kindly gave up their table so I could sit.
We bought them a round as a thank-you and ordered a round of ale for ourselves.
It was a nice night. I’d told Cammie about Greig and had teased her about the attractive young decorator ever since, which was fun.
Moreover, since I’d moved in, we’d both noticed a change in Taran.
Having me there really did seem to help pull her out of the black hole of grief.
Now she joked more with us and even opened up a little about her mom and her failed engagement.
The folk band was made up of three women and a man—a female vocalist, two fiddle players, and a bass violinist. They played a few songs, then took a break so the pubgoers could enjoy socializing among themselves. Then the band would play another few songs and break and so on and so forth.
It was a nice night.
For about an hour.
Then Ramsay and Quinn walked in.
“Oh shit,” Cammie muttered under her breath. “Ladies, I’m so sorry.”
Taran glanced over first, her expression tightening as she and Quinn locked eyes for a moment before she turned away.
I was afraid to look at Ramsay.
But I … I couldn’t help myself.
He didn’t even look my way. He found a space with Quinn to squeeze in at the bar.
They didn’t come over, if only to say hello to Cammie.
“Arseholes,” Cammie huffed. “Big man babies.”
“I might go.” Taran shifted, reaching for her purse.
Cammie covered her hand to stop her. “Please don’t. You … I say this with the utmost kindness and understanding … eventually, you have to coexist with him.”
They shared a long, loaded look.
Finally, Taran nodded, and the tension drained from Cammie.
Not from me.
“I’m not leaving,” I said at their questioning stares. “I was here first.”
Cammie smirked, but the band began playing again before we could speak.
Still, I felt everyone watching us. Waiting to see if any drama would unfold. I tried to focus on the band, but I could see Ramsay out of the corner of my eye turning to watch them too.
Unfortunately, I noticed the lead singer, an attractive, very tall, very voluptuous redhead closer to Ramsay in age, staring in his direction as she sang. When her lips turned into an inviting smile, I stiffened, following her line of sight.
Sure enough, she and Ramsay were locked in a staring contest.
Was he fucking kidding me?
Cammie shifted beside me, and I didn’t even need to look at her to know she’d noticed.
The whole pub probably noticed.
When the song ended, the vocalist thanked us, and the band began packing up their stuff.
Taran shot me a worried glance because I was glued to what was happening, waiting on edge for it to play out.
Sure enough, the redhead strolled over to the bar, introducing herself to Quinn and Ramsay. Quinn quickly turned to talk to the person at his other side and Ramsay bent his head as the redhead spoke in his ear.
Jealousy was like a knife wound across my chest—and I could say that with authority now.
“This is unbelievable,” Cammie hissed.
“Don’t look.” Taran angled her body toward me. “How’s the B and B coming along?”
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t engage in banal discourse.
Instead, I watched as the redhead and Ramsay barely made any conversation before they moved from the bar.
To walk out together.
It felt like my heart was cracking in two.
“Watch yourself with that one, sweetheart!” Cammie suddenly called over the noise of the pub, hushing everyone into silence.
I couldn’t even be embarrassed.
I could only process the pain.
Ramsay and the redhead halted.
“He’ll cut out your fucking heart,” Cammie spat at them.
I didn’t know how the redhead reacted because I was staring at Ramsay.
He met my gaze, and I couldn’t hide my feelings. I wanted to so badly because he didn’t deserve them.
And I hated him for it.
I hated him.
There was nothing on his face. No hint that he even cared.
The redhead nudged Ramsay, and he jerked his head round, following her out the door.
“What an absolute prick.” Cammie slammed her pint down on the table.
“Would you calm down,” Taran snapped at her. “You making a scene only made it worse for Tierney.”
It was true.
But I couldn’t speak.
And I knew Cammie’s intentions came from a good place.
Cammie flinched. “Shit. Tierney, I’m so sorry. I … I can’t believe him … I’m sorry.”
Slowly, the room returned to normal, but I could sense everyone watching me. Quinn’s sympathy was clear even from across the room, and I fought the urge to bolt. Rather, I stood, reaching calmly for my purse. It was new since Shawn Prescott had stolen mine after he stabbed me.
I’d been stabbed three weeks ago and my lover not only dumped me, but he’d walked out of the pub with another woman.
I hated him.
“I’m going home.”
“I’m coming with you.” Taran snatched up her purse too.
Cammie grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I squeezed hers in reassurance. “In the morning, I’m going to love you for what you did. But right now …” My lips trembled dangerously. “I need to leave.”
My friend nodded, pale with guilt, as she stood too. “Let’s all go.”
With my head held high, I got out of there without bursting into tears.
It was only once we were off Main Street and there was no one else around that the tears flooded out of me before I could stop them.
Taran and Cammie hugged me, protecting me inside an emotional and physical cocoon of friendship, as I sobbed for the first time since Ramsay ended things between us.
I promised myself it would be the last time I cried for him.